A Smothered Flame
by KT the Shimmer Skank
Summary: The girl who took pictures and played with fire finds her way home again, coming to terms with herself and her life. [one-shot]


****

--A Smothered Flame--

Rating: PG-13 for smoking and playing with fire.

Disclaimer: I do not own Fooly Cooly or its characters.

I slid the tiny metal object through my fingers over and over again. I flipped it open, then flipped it shut again. Open, shut. Open, shut. The orange flame appeared and disappeared with the opening and closing lid. 

I let the flame keep burning, watching it flicker on top of the Zippo lighter. I held it to my calloused index finger, watching it burn the flesh but barely able to feel it. I put out the flame, then touched the hot metal tip to the tender skin of my wrist. It left a raw pink mark, among many others already there and in various stages of healing. A breeze picked up, hitting the top of the water and causing ripples. I retrieved a cigarette from my cluttered satchel. My whole life was in that bag. I wondered vaguely if this was my last cigarette as I placed it between my lips and lit it.

I watched the river crawl along as I smoked. The water was murky, polluted by usual town filth. The chipped concrete beams of the bridge overhead bore messages in raunchy shades of spray paint. "Zo was here." "Cory loves Margot." "Revolution." "Donna's a whore." Every few minutes there was the sound of a car rushing past over the bridge.

"I'm glad I don't have anywhere to be," I announced to no one, taking a deep puff of my cigarette.

"Why are you talking to yourself?" said an annoyed voice. "What are you doing here?"

I knew the voice; I had almost been expecting to hear it answer. I turned and looked at Naota. I had to catch my breath for a moment. He was wearing a uniform from my old high school. I was reminded of all the boys I used see every day wearing that same uniform, and how much I hated them all.

Naota sighed in impatience, slinging his school bag over his shoulder. "Did you hear me? Or are you daydreaming?"

"You don't look very happy to see me, Naota," I said, pouting and smoking simultaneously.

"Of course I'm happy to see you." He was unconvincing. He tossed his bag and a black guitar case to the ground and dropped down beside me. "Why did you just show up like this, out of nowhere? Where have you been all this time, anyway?"

He was taller than before. Even sitting down, I could tell he was at least as tall as me now. I took a puff, slowly, and twisted my fingers through my hair. "I'm here taking pictures. It's part of my new project."

"So you really did become a photographer?" His voice had changed a little, gotten deeper. His eyes looked just the same, though. 

I nodded and started digging through my satchel. I pulled out a large, professional camera. I held it lovingly in my lap, like a pet or a small child. I caressed my fingers along the knobs and sleek black contours. "I've been everywhere, taking pictures. I do freelance work, mostly for European and American magazines. I just got back from Germany."

"Oh." He had on a sour expression. "So you're famous now?"

"Nope. Not really."

"Oh. Have you been making alot of money?"

"Nope. Not really."

He sighed again. "So what's the deal, then?"

"I make just enough money to travel. I don't stay in one place for long. I set my own schedule, go wherever and do whatever I want." I softly pet the heavy camera in my lap.

"So you haven't really grown up at all, have you Mamimi? You're still just so immature."

Holding the cigarette with my lips, I placed both hands around the camera and lifted it up. I saw Naota through the lens, looking at me with that familiar unpleasant disposition. I exhaled. "You're right. I haven't changed at all. I'm exactly the same."

I pressed the button, and with a click and a flash I had his face imprinted on my film. I knew his child-like expressions better than anyone else's, but having it captured in photos made it concrete. It immortalized the moment and made it portable. I could cling to it, keep it in my satchel with the rest of my universe.

Or I could sell it. Nearly all of my early work was of Naota. This was before I knew it was work, back when pictures were just things I took to remember. They were just pieces of glossy paper that could preserve my emotion. When I went to America, people were so eager to pay money for pictures of him. Everyone loved the shots of the unhappy, reluctant little Japanese boy standing amidst surreal scenery.

He dropped his eyes, embarrassed. "I didn't mean you haven't changed _any_. You have changed some. I hardly recognized you."

"Oh? Do I really look all that different?" I tilted back my head and snapped a shot of the graffiti underneath the bridge.

"Sort of. You don't look like a school girl any more."

"That's not really surprising, is it? I'm not a school girl any more." The wind picked up again. I took a picture of a few blades of grass as they swayed. "What about you, Naota? Have you changed at all?"

"You keep calling my Naota. That's something that's changed. It sounds so weird when you say it."

"Didn't you tell me to call you Naota?"

"Yeah, but… I'm just not used to it, that's all."

"Uh-huh. You're too old for silly nicknames."

He replied with an indistinct noise. The conversation came to a lull. The sounds of cars and wind were all that buzzed around us. In the distance I heard an ambulance. I continued to pet my camera and smoke my cigarette as Naota stared in frustration at the river, too stubborn to speak whatever it was he was thinking.

"I got to see your brother," I said as I took a picture of a soda can floating by in the water. "When I was in America."

"So? Why should I care?"

I flicked my cigarette into the water. I took a picture of it before it sank. "I just thought you might be interested to know. I know how much you miss him."

He pouted. "You're forgetting how much time has gone by since you were last here. I stopped missing him a long time ago. He has his own life now, he doesn't care about us. He hardly ever writes anymore." He paused and looked at me. His eyes were wide and expectant, like there was something he really wanted to tell me. Or maybe there was something I was supposed to tell him.

But I can't read minds. I stared back at him blankly.

"He never mentioned you in his letters," Naota continued. "He didn't tell us you had come to see him."

I saw his brother's face in my mind, clear as a photograph, and it stung. "That's because he didn't know I was there. I went to one of his baseball games, to take pictures." I remembered every detail. Blue stripes down his pants, sweat down his neck, tan dust trailing behind each of his steps. Hundreds of screaming faces in the crowd. Two burned-out bulbs on the scoreboard. Summer sun that was hotter than any weather I'd ever known back home.

Naota's glare was scolding. "You mean you had a chance and you didn't even talk to him? All you ever did was talk about him. You were crazy about him!"

I shrugged. "I knew he didn't want to see me. I'd rather remember him the way I knew him, anyway. The pictures I took were much better than any encounter with him would have been."

"That's just stupid." He kicked the ground slightly, causing a few small rocks to roll into the water. "Can I see the pictures?"

"I sold them."

"Don't you have copies?"

I shook my head. "Everything I own fits in this bag here. Once I sell my pictures, I don't bother keeping them around any more. They take up too much space."

"Why can't you just live in a house, with stuff, in one place, like everyone else? That's what normal people do, Mamimi. It's not like you don't have the money."

"Naota..." I tucked a tress of red hair behind my ear as I brought my knees to my chest. I sat in a ball, with my camera still in my lap. "Have you changed since I left? You didn't answer me before."

His face went sour again. "Of course I've changed. I'm fifteen now. I'm completely different. You can't be a little kid forever."

"That's true. You can't. I'll bet you're all grown-up and responsible and boring now. Do you have a girlfriend?"

"Yes. Well, I guess not. Sort of. I do, but we've been fighting lately. We haven't talked all week." He eyed me suspiciously. "Why? You don't still like me, do you?"

I ignored his question. It was irrelevant. "What's her name?"

"Eri."

"That's a pretty name." The breeze blew hard again. The sun was sinking lower, and it was getting colder. "So what's the problem, huh? What did you do to her? Why are you fighting?"

"I didn't do anything! I mean... I don't know. She says I'm too needy and I complain too much."

I looked at him honestly. "You're not very good with girls, Naota."

His face twisted into an indignant expression. "So? That didn't stop _you_ from liking me. You're so weird. Whoever heard of a seventeen year old liking a sixth-grader?"

I could not disagree. "Yeah. Especially someone like you."

He shut his mouth. The two of us sat there in quiet. The sun went down, the air got cold, and the water trickled along under the bridge. Naota shifted uncomfortably every few seconds, clearly stewing in his own frustration. I opened my satchel and started digging through it. My hands shoved aside film canisters, loose cash, and a few articles of clothing as I search intently.

"Hey, what do you know?" I said with mild enthusiasm, pulling out a small paper cylinder. "That wasn't my last cigarette after all." I grabbed a Sharpie from my bag and wrote, in tiny black letters, "Sour-face boy" on the cigarette. I showed it to Naota and smiled. "See, Naota? This one, I smoke for you, old friend." I lit it with my Zippo and put it in my mouth.

"Why don't you just grow up?" he fumed. "Why did you even come back here, anyway?"

I sighed, and looked at the sky with its dripping watercolor-like hues that hung above the town. It was beautiful, beautiful like I'd never seen it before. A wave of bitter nostalgia swept over me. I remembered so well sleeping beneath that sky. While others slept in warm homes with warm families, I was always alone in the cold. The streets were my home. I knew every streetlight and sidewalk, every detail of every building. They were all I ever saw. They were all I knew. I had hated it. My greatest dream was to watch it burn. To leave those damn houses as nothing but ash.

I was a homeless teenager, fueled solely by my hatred for this town and these people. I thought I would be okay as long as I got out someday. I didn't care where I went, so long as it wasn't Mabase. I thought that if I could just see the world outside this place, and know that there was more to life than this, then I could stop feeling so miserable. But even when I was out on my own, visiting one fascinating place after another, I was just as empty as I'd always been. I still found myself getting bored with every place I went and every person I met. Try as I might, I could never hang around in one place too long. All I ever felt was hate and despair.

I simply did not belong. It was true of every place I went. I couldn't stand the idea of living in a house with a family and living a life filled with all the mundane and ordinary things I had never really known. I realized that it was never Mabase that I had hated. I just hated what I could never have, and what surrounded me everywhere I went. Naota was right; I couldn't grow up. I couldn't fit in. No matter how hard I tried, I would always be that little girl living under the bridge.

Warm tears slid against my skin. "I shouldn't have come back," I said softly, inhaling my cigarette and crying and talking at the same time. "I don't know why I came back. I only feel worse now." I slung my satchel over my shoulder and moved quickly to stand up.

"Hey, wait!" said Naota, matching my speed and grabbing hold of my hand. He held it so tightly. "Where are you going?"

"Out of town. Out of here. I can't hang around."

He frowned, and suddenly I was looking at that hopeless ten-year-old boy again. "But you just got here. I haven't seen you in five years."

I tousled his soft black hair with my free hand, lightly touching his cheek. "Aw, look who suddenly cares that I'm here. I knew you couldn't be as grown-up as you said you were." He blushed, and it felt so good to see that. He really was himself. He had changed, but he was still the same. "I have to go. I really do."

"Can I... Can I come with you?" His eyes looked so desperate and innocent.

A soundless laugh escaped my lips. "Come on, Naota. You don't want to leave Mabase. Deep down you know that you were meant to be here. You've got your dad and your girlfriend and your life here."

He dropped his eyes. "Will you at least come around more often?"

More often. Those words meant on a regular basis, on a schedule, part of a routine. The stability of the words cut into me. I pulled out my lighter again and held it in my hand, rubbing my thumb against it to calm my nerves. "I don't wanna."

Naota rolled his eyes and sighed. "Why not? Why did you come back at all? I just don't get you sometimes."

"I only came... to take pictures." I flicked the lighter open and closed it quickly again. Open, shut. Open, shut. Click, click, click. I removed my eyes from the dancing flame and placed them on Naota. His eyes were fierce and innocent, angry and discouraged. He looked so much like his brother just then. "Listen. How about this? You go and make things right with your girlfriend. Then get through high school and grow up, and do all the normal things you're supposed to do. Then get married and buy a house and get a job and have kids and never ever leave Mabase. Then sometime later on I'll come back and I'll take pictures of you and your family. Is that okay?"

"Pshh." He just looked out at the water and exhaled bitterly. "You're just making excuses. You're not coming back."

I clicked the lighter more rapidly and started shifting my weight from side to side. "No, no, I promise I'll come back and take pictures. But you have to do all the stuff I said." I gave his hand a squeeze. His skin felt cold.

His voice grew low, barely audible. "Whatever. Just hurry up and go. I have things to do." He walked away from me and bent down to pick up his bag and guitar case. There was only the sound of the wind between us. I shivered.

Naota kept his back to me. I walked over to him and wrapped my arms around him, placing a kiss on his cold cheek. He took in a breath, not speaking or looking my way. He shrugged me off and walked away.

I tried my hardest to look at as little as possible as I walked to the bus station. My camera stayed tucked tightly in my satchel; I had no need for pictures of anything else. The less I recalled about this place, the quicker I would forget the finer details of it. I passed quietly through the streets, taking note of nothing and no one. Letting it slip through my fingers as quickly as I had taken hold of it again. Maybe Naota was right. Maybe I wouldn't come back. I don't think it mattered whether I did or not. I knew what I would find here a few years down the road. What I didn't know was what I would find in myself. I had no idea what the next day or any of the days after that had in store for me. It was a good feeling to cling to.

It only got colder as I walked. I kept my lighter in my hand and let the flame brush softly against my fingers, tenderly scorching my skin. There was a bit of warmth in that, at least. I could keep going as long as I still had a flame. 


End file.
